


be my homeward dove

by tolya



Category: Anastasia - Flaherty/Ahrens/McNally
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dancing, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 01:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16466282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tolya/pseuds/tolya
Summary: With his background, Gleb is especially tasked to oversee an assignment involving the rumors of a surviving Romanov daughter.And with bruised toes, Anya finds an unexpected dancing partner.It brings them both closer to the past then they realize.





	be my homeward dove

**Author's Note:**

> back at it again with the AUs
> 
> In this one Gleb is assigned to supervise our favorite trio. While the Bolsheviks aren't thrilled with the rumors of the princess, they sieze the opportunity to get closer to snuffing out what's left of the white Russians and any chance of counter revolutionary action.
> 
> I've had the idea for this one for a long time now. Though it went through some changes. Also, it's been ages since I wrote in past tense so that took a moment of readjustment. I'm only leaving it as a one shot for now because I'm not sure if the story would be better progressed in snippets or multi-chapters. 
> 
> Anyway. Sorry for a novel of an authors note. Enjoy!

"And _again!_ "

Vlad's voice echoed loudly off the walls of the empty theater. Anya bit the inside of her cheek to refrain from saying anything, she had already gone through her fair share of irritable comments. Instead she lifted her hand. _O_ _nce more,_ Dmitry took it, awkwardly lifting it too high for her height. His other hand rested above her actual waist, his elbow jutting out awkwardly. As many times as Vlad had tried to fix the posture it seemed to be stuck that way.

"And! One, two, three. One, two three..." Vlad counted.

Anya did her best not to make a face as Dmitry stomped through the steps, the very floor of the stage threatened to give out. They had almost made it a quarter way through when Dmitry's foot unforgivingly landed on hers like a brick of lead. In response she took her uninjured foot and collided it with his shin.

Dmitry jolted and swore loudly, eliciting a chuckle from the seats down below them.

Gleb was seated in his familiar spot, a stack of unattended to paperwork balanced across his knee. Amusement played clear across his features as he watched the spectacle before him. Dmitry shot him a sour look.

Vlad sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Dmitry, if you would _please-_ "

"Oh, I'm the one?" He voiced, waving an accusatory finger towards her direction, "She just kicked me!"

She scowled, "Because you stepped on my foot! Again!"

"Well maybe if you watched where you were going-"

"Maybe if my partner wasn't an _elephant_ -"

"Enough!" Vlad boomed, gaining three pairs of eyes on him. He straightened his jacket, clearing his throat, this time speaking in much more leveled tone. "I think, perhaps, a small break is in order."

"You don't have to tell me twice." Dmitry grumbled out, already grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair.

He stormed out the room without another word, not bothering to look back. Vlad sighed, looking much more tired than he had moments ago. He muttered something about needing fresh air or a bottle of vodka and returning soon before following his friend.

Which left Anya alone on stage.

Today, she didn't feel like roaming the crumbling halls of the palace or walk through the former gardens, covered with snow that never seemed to relent this Winter.

 _"Soon, it will be spring."_ Gleb often reminded her when she stared woefully too long out the window at the blanket of white. _"Springtime in Paris will feel like summer and you'll long for Russia's winters."_

She had wondered is he spoke from experience.

Anya decided to stay in the theater, leaving her in the company of the Deputy Commissioner himself. She took a seat at the edge of the stage, her legs swinging over the edge. It wasn't that long ago that the mere thought of being alone in the room with the man would have shattered her nerves.

True fear had enveloped her when the three of them had been scooped off the streets of deposited into Commissioner of Leningrad's office. Gleb had been there then, standing behind his superior, fingers laced behind his back, medals gleaming in the fading light. He could have passed for a statue with his stiff posture and hard expression. Yet, when his eyes fell to her they seemed to soften. Commissioner Gorlinsky's words had been lost to her through her own heart beating loudly in her ears. She remembered him then, the kind officer from the street and a backfiring truck... and something else. Though she couldn't place it.

The only thing she had managed to take in as they were swept out the door was that instead of being arrested they were now subordinates. That they were simply _taking over_ and that it was to be spoken of to no one.

With that, Gleb had been put in charge of their _assignment_. Though it looked as if he wanted to be anywhere else every day that he stepped into the decaying palace. He took to one of the old theater chairs, their once lavish red and gold already fading away. More often than not his hands kept busy with stacks of reports or notes he filled out while "observing" them.

In the beginning he hadn't spoken to them outside of a _"good morning"_ or _"good day,"_  when he left. On occasion there would be a gruff _"good evening"_ when their lessons ran over. The tension in the room each day had been suffocating. His presence was a reminder of what could- of what _would_ happen if they failed; no matter what stiff and rehearsed assurances he gave them.

Just when things seemed to reach their boling point, a blistering storm had piled a snowdrift up to her waist at the door, keeping them all in one place. Not even Dmitry had encouraged the Deputy Commissioner to venture out into the pure white haze. To her suprise, he had offered him a seat, producing a pack of cards from his pocket. Vlad even broke down an produced a bottle of cheap wine he had hidden away.

Anya discovered then that Vagonov was quite the master of card games, despite the fact she was sure she had seen Dmitry slip an extra queen of hearts behind the cuff of his shirt. She took delight in his baffled expression everytime Gleb produced a winning hand despite his opponent's skillful tricks.

They all learned that after a few glasses of wine Gleb had an affinity for bad jokes, ones that they had to laugh at just for sake of their awfulness. She also learned he was a soldier before becoming an officer and that this was not the first time he and Dmitry had crossed paths. Though it shouldn't have been surprising considering their _respective_ careers.

It was also that night she saw the way Dmitry and Vlad could hold an entire conversation without speaking a single word. She wondered just how long it had just been the two of them on their own. What force bound them together.

She had fallen asleep by the fire, her heart feeling full in a way that it had never before. Or perhaps it had. The wine muffled her thoughts and dreams and she had fallen asleep peacefully.

After that night the tension melted away, Gleb seemed less the Deputy Commissioner and more, well, _Gleb_. He spoke to them more frequently, even provided extra documents on the fallen family from his personal archives.

"Don't let them discourage you." Gleb spoke without looking up from his work, his voice breaking her thoughts, "You're doing well."

She looked down and her worn, tawny colored boots, now with fresh scuff marks against the tops of them "My feet say different."

"That is because you have a partner who, apparently, carries the weight of an ox in each step. I can't imagine that feels very pleasant." He answered easily, his pen scrawling loudly, "Though- you do tend to lead."

"I do not." She replied quickly.

He simply raised a dark brow in repose.

She let out a sigh of defeat, "Maybe we should try something else, like a polka."

Gleb gave her a frightened expression, "This whole place will collapse if you try anything of the sort."

She tried her best to smother down a smile, "Then what do you suggest?"

"A new partner." He said dryly. Had she not been accustomed to his humor she would have thought him serious.

A sudden thought grasped her then, "Do you know how to dance?"

His pen stilled against the page, he paused for a moment before answering slowly.

"I do."

She hummed in thought, "Maybe you could teach Dmitry how to sweep a girl off her feet instead of crushing them."

"I could." He agreed, "Or I could simply show you myself."

"How do mean?" She asked.

Gleb held a finger up, indicating for her to wait a moment, "I'll show you," He repeated and placed his work on the armrest of the chair.

She blinked in confusion and before the words had fully set in he was standing above her on the stage. He extended his arm towards her.

Anya regarded his hand owlishly and then her gaze went up to the man it belonged to, suddenly shy, she faltered.

He noted her hesitancy.

"You have my word that both your feet shall remain untouched." He wiggled his fingers as his hand hovered.

"I have the word of a Deputy Commissioner?" She asked, daring to tease him, "That's a serious promise."

"Yes, and I take my promises very seriously." His tone was light, playful almost, but she knew there was honesty beneath it.

Something about that eased her, a small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she slipped her hand into his, letting him help her to her feet.

Her heart fluttered anxiously as they stood across for each other, they had only been this close once before and that was due to unfortunate circumstances. She felt her face heat at the memory.

"Shall we?" She asked, longing to take her mind off it.

Gleb responded by stepping even closer to her then, she could feel the warmth from his body at the proximity now. His right hand came to hold her left at a comfortable height that she didn't have to stretch for. She, however, didn't miss the way his opposite hand hesitated a moment before in fell to her waist.

"Ready?" He asked, his eyes like warm coal meeting hers.

She nodded, "On your count."

"And _one_ , two, three."

_One, two, three._

_And step, one, two._

Her movements were stiff at first, still weary from her time with Dmitry. Gleb, on the other hand, seemed to have no such hindrance as he glided across the floor with practiced skill. Not at all like the mechanical march she half expected from him. He hummed a tune as he spun them around, each step easier than the last.

"See? As I said, you do quite fine." He remarked.

A nervous laugh bubbled from her, "If you say so." It had meant to sound playful, but fell flat.

"I do." He assured warmly.

He seemed so sincere to Anya, she couldn't help but let herself relax slightly. With Gleb there would be no smart comments following his words, no critique of her stance, he wouldn't have her balance books on her head.

She wasn't sure she would ever acclimate to the contrast between times like these and who Gleb was outside the palace walls. Then again, she supposed they were all different people when they stepped outside their little bubble of _"make-believe"_ as Gleb called it.

He twirled her outwards, her feet expertly twisting on their own account. A laugh escaped her lips as she spun back into his arms, pressing close as his hand found the middle of her back. A grin graced his features dimpling his cheeks as he looked down on her. It was easy, she realized, to move like this, even as Gleb changed their dance she quickly matched his footfalls like muscle memory.

It felt as if she had been caught in one of her dreams. She could nearly see the room come back to life, the golden glow of the lights, the thick crimson velvet curtains that matched the overstuffed seats, the cackling laughter of the audience. It seemed all too real, making her overwhelmed and dizzy with it all.

And Gleb-

When she looked back at him she felt the same thing, that frustrating familiar tug in the back of her mind, that she should know _something_. But it was all whistles and sirens but no real fire to be found. She searched his face for any sort of clue, anything that woud pull a memory.

His gaze had always held an intensity to it, but something underlined it when his eyes met hers this time. She thought she imagined it at first, like everything happening around her. But his smile slipped and his eyes widened. He took a sharp breath, he looked at her as if he had figured out the puzzle she was desperately trying figure out.

She waited for him to say something, she hadn't even realized they had stopped moving until she heard clapping from beside them.

The moment was shattered. Gleb moved away from her as if he had been burned. A wave of cold hit her at the lack of contact, she quickly laced her hands behind her back to hide their shaking.

"Marvelous! Absolutely marvelous, well done!" Vlad cheered, seemingly unaare, "What did I say? I knew you were a natural!"

Dmitry stood at a distance with his arms crossed, leaning against the desk watching them both.

"Who knew Vagonov had it in him?" He commented.

Gleb gave them a tight smile, "Yes, today had been... full of surprises, hm? I think that'll be all." He refused to look at her, instead leaving the stage to retrieve his coat and cap.

"Good day." He said, brushing past them hastily.

Vlad and Dmitry shared one of their looks that held a paragraph of unspoken words that she couldn't distinguish.

"See you tomorrow, comrade?" Dmitry called at the officer's retreating form.

His only answer was the hollow slam of the theater door closing.

Anya frowned, her heart sinking. Uneasiness wrapped around her, settling to her stomach as an unwelcomed weight.

"Whatever you did to scare him off," Dmitry chuckled, sauntering over to her, "You should do it more often."

But that was the thing. She hadn't actually _done_ anything. At least not anything to warrant such a reaction, and now she had somehow ended up with even more questions, ones she knew she wouldn't get answers to from the cryptic officer.

"Are you alright, my dear?" Vlad asked at her side.

She looked up to his concerned face and nodded, "I'm fine. Just cold."

Anya was sure he knew that wasn't the case, but she was grateful when he seemed to take the response.

"Of course, why don't we call it a day. After all it seems there's not much left for you to improve on." He complemented, "Dmitry on the other hand..."

"Hey!" The affronted reply came, "I was doing just fine."

"My boy, I have seen bears at the circus with more grace."

"Yeah well they're actually trained."

The conversation faded from her ears as her mind drifted. Anya wrapped her arms around her middle as she let herself be guided away from the theater and towards a warm fire, where Dmitry proudly boasted extra rations he had acquired.

Despite the events of the day and the turmoil Anya now felt from it, her past seemed closer to her now than it ever had. Her determination that had wavered under the Commissioner's watchful eye had been renewed.

She held onto it like a flame in the dark.

Now she was almost certain was onto the right path. And if two "former" conmen could map out and learn each detail of the Royal Court for this chance-

Well, then she could learn to do it, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always welcomed! 
> 
> I rewrote this like 32 times and could probably still nitpick at it. (:


End file.
